All Hallows Eve
by highland laurel
Summary: Mingo turns the tables on Daniel's effort to play on his Cherokee superstitions.


ALL HALLOW'S EVE

The leafless trees reached their skeletal branches into the inky black sky. The full moon was rising in the east, its orange orb reminiscent of a large pumpkin. Mingo glanced at it as he cleaned up after the evening meal. He was feeling uneasy and didn't understand why. Maybe it was the odd color of the autumn moon. In the firelight Daniel's face looked nearly featureless except for his sparkling green eyes. He wore an expression of devilment that made Mingo's suspicions grow uncomfortably.

The coffee boiled and Mingo poured a cup for Daniel and held it out to his companion. Daniel reached for it and nodded gratefully. Mingo poured a cup for himself and leaned back against the fallen log behind him. A breeze began to blow and the few remaining leaves showered down upon the two men.

Mingo shivered as late October ran cold fingers down his neck. His thick black hair blew in the wind. Daniel leaned far back against the bare sycamore tree behind him. Mingo kept his eyes from spending too much time on that ghostly white bark. In the back of his mind he couldn't shake the feeling that Daniel had picked this camping site deliberately because of that tree. Within seconds Mingo discovered that his feeling was correct.

"All Hallow's Eve, Mingo. What do the Cherokee think about the spirits walkin' on nights like this one?"

"Daniel, you know that I don't talk about things like that, and you know why. Cherokee people believe that spirits are best left alone."

"Well so do I. I was just rememberin' that today was All Hallow's Eve."

"Since you don't usually remember dates, I have difficulty believing that you 'just remembered' the day."

Before him Daniel grinned his charming lopsided grin. Mingo glanced his direction and cast his eyes quickly down as the campfire illuminated the ghostly tree. It seemed to be reaching down to clutch Daniel in its spindly arms. Unconsciously Mingo swallowed and Daniel saw the involuntary gesture. All his prankish nature rose to the surface and he began to play with Mingo's mind.

"I remember when I was just a boy a peddler came by our farm on All Hallow's Eve. He looked right strange, bushy black hair, kinda wild eyes. He had a strange collection of oddities that he'd picked up in his travels. One looked like a human eye, only he said it was made out o' glass."

"I couldn't seem to look away from that thing. He said he'd bought it from a Creole doctor who'd taken it from one of his patients. Said it could really see into the future. Proved it to my ma when he told her about her burnin' the supper that night, and she did. Still makes my arms feel all prickly when I think about it."

"That peddler stayed the night with us. I couldn't sleep, thinkin' about that eye. Long about midnight I heard him chanting, so I got up and I saw him standin' outside in the moonlight. He had that eye in his hand, and I swear I saw it wink at him! Scared me so bad I jumped back into the bed and pulled the covers over my head. By mornin' he was gone. I always wondered what became o' that eye."

Daniel glanced at Mingo to see his reaction. The tall Cheokee was gazing into the fire, his face a mask in the firelight. Daniel was reminded of the look on his friend's face as he sat before another fire, this time inside a cave at a massacre site called Wisashu. Mingo had been very uneasy that time too.

Daniel sighed and decided not to continue fooling with Mingo's superstitious mind. He slid down and stretched full length before the warm fire. Pulling his blanket close around him, he closed his eyes and drifted toward sleep.

"Well, good night, Mingo. See you in the mornin'."

"Daniel." Mingo's voice was low and cautious.

"What?"

"That tree. Come over here and look at that tree."

Daniel opened his eyes. Mingo was staring at a spot about seven feet up the tall tree's trunk. Daniel leaned his head back and looked straight up into the tree's emaciated limbs.

"No, Daniel. You must come here beside me to see what I see."

Daniel looked at his friend. Mingo's eyes were fixed and staring. A thrill of fear passed through Daniel's body. He scrambled to Mingo's side and looked where the Indian pointed. There, on the side of the tree, was an easily discernible face. It had two wide-open eyes and a mouth twisted into a scream.

The hair on Daniel's arms rose. A cold blast of October wind blew sparks from the fire and reached inside Daniel's open coat. The big man shivered and crossed his arms. Beside him Mingo continued to sit and stare at the sycamore tree.

"It's just an arrangement of bark. That's all it is. It can't be anything else." Daniel's logical mind attacked the problem. All his nature rebelled at the thought of a face hidden inside a tree. Suddenly, from deep inside the sycamore a moaning sound drifted to the two men's ears. Mingo sprang to his feet and Daniel jumped beside him. From their more than six foot heights the two men could still see the face on the side of the tree. Mingo grasped Daniel's arm and pointed.

"What?"

"The hair, Daniel. Look at the hair!"

Mingo gestured at the image. Daniel could see wisps of hair radiating around the center of the image. As he watched they seemed to be waving in the autumn wind. The moaning grew louder as the firelight threw shadows into the forest and the white sycamore bark glimmered in the moonlight. Sparks leaped and danced around their feet.

Daniel pulled all of his courage from the pit of his stomach and stepped toward the towering tree. Mingo grabbed his arm and halted his progress.

"No, Daniel! There are things in the world that men do not understand. It is always best not to confront them!"

Daniel looked into Mingo's face and saw the unmistakable fear reflected there. "It's all superstition, Mingo. Just stories."

"No it is not, Daniel. In Britain the Old Ones knew not to disturb the spirits of the forest. The Druids revered and honored trees. It's Samhain, my friend. The night when the veil between living and dead is thinnest, when spirits walk the earth. Do not lift the veil! Help me build another fire. Then we must walk between them to purify ourselves. Hurry, Daniel!"

Mingo bent and piled several sticks together, then pushed a pile of tinder beneath them. He frantically struck his flint and steel and the spark caught the tinder. Mingo blew on the spark and within seconds the sticks were burning.

"Daniel, we will need more wood. Quickly!"

Mingo rushed into the forest, carefully making a wide berth around the sycamore tree. Daniel stared at his friend's back, then walked the opposite direction to scrounge more wood. It took most of an hour to find an armful, and when he returned Mingo was already feeding the two fires. He grabbed several sticks from Daniel's arms and tossed them onto the blazes.

"Now, Daniel, we must walk between the two fires. We must also chant."

"Chant what? And how do you know all this?"

"There were several of my Oxford classmates from Wales and Scotland. They always carefully observed Samhain. They told me about it, and once I even went with them. Hurry, Daniel. The moon is high and we are running the risk of further angering the forest spirits!"

Mingo pushed Daniel and the tall man staggered between the two fires. Behind him he could hear Mingo chanting. His low voice sang the meaningless syllables. Daniel circled the fires as Mingo followed, the chant rising and falling with the dancing flames.

"Is that Scottish words?"

"Daniel, hush! No. It's Druidic."

"Never heard of it," Daniel muttered to himself. Mingo continued to chant. Soon Daniel was able to join in, the simple syllables running through his mind.

"O aut ag oose ube, o aut ag oose ube..."

After a full hour of chanting and walking, Daniel decided that the forest gods must be appeased to Mingo's satisfaction by now. He stopped walking and stood looking at the sycamore tree. The face was still visible, but it seemed even more agitated than before. The moon had swung in its arc and now illuminated the tree from a different angle. As Daniel stared at the image he realized that the moaning sound had grown louder too. Even with the strong wind blowing he could plainly hear the moan.

Mingo stood beside him, staring at the white tree. In the strong wind the branches were thrashing like agonized arms. The moan came from deep inside the tree's large trunk. The face's mouth was open wide and the eyes stared at the two men before them. Mingo backed away, grabbing Daniel's arm and pulling the big man after him. After several yards the Cherokee stopped pulling and leaned against a large sweet gum. Daniel leaned beside him.

"Let's just sit here and sleep tonight." Mingo's voice sounded strained and worn. "The fires were nearly out. The ground is damp. There's little danger of fire."

Daniel nodded and sank to sit beside the tree's cool bark. He pulled his coat tightly around his tall body. Mingo did the same, and the spectral night drifted on.

When Daniel awoke the next morning Mingo was gone. Shaking his head to chase the sleep away, Daniel stretched and walked rapidly back to their abandoned camp. He found Mingo sipping a cup of hot coffee. Wordlessly his Cherokee friend handed him a tin cup of coffee. In the bright daylight the sycamore looked no more otherworldly than all the surrounding trees. The two burned out campfires were all that remained of the night's scare. That, and the path worn between them by the two men's marching feet.

Mingo pulled several pieces of jerky from his pack and handed some to Daniel. Then he leaned back against the log and looked at Daniel. Deep in the brown depths of his eyes a flame flickered. Daniel saw the flicker and frowned. He looked back at the sycamore tree, then faced his friend.

"Mingo, you pulled one over on me last night didn't you?"

"Why Daniel, whatever do you mean?" Mingo's eyebrows rose to meet his black fringe, but his eyes sparkled in fun.

"All that business about the Druids and forest spirits. That was all nonsense, wasn't it?"

"You didn't think it nonsense last night. The spirits were surely abroad. You saw them, you heard them."

"No Mingo, I saw what you wanted me to see and heard what you wanted me to hear. You're more of a scamp than I am! How did you do it? You couldn't have planned it. You didn't have time. And you were never out of my sight."

"Do you really want to know? Or would you rather just keep the memory as it is?"

Daniel thought for several seconds. Mingo had a point. Now in the bright daylight the scare of the night seemed like only fun. But it hadn't felt like fun last night. He decided that he wanted to know.

"When I picked up wood before sundown I noticed that the sycamore had a hole far up where the trunk forks. I didn't think anything about it until you started trying to spook me after dark. Then when the wind came up I knew that I could turn the tables on you. The bark did resemble a face, but I primed you before I showed you the image and you did the rest. I couldn't have planned it better."

"And all that chantin'?"

Mingo's face split into a wide grin. "Daniel, put the syllables together."

"O aut ag oose ube..." Suddenly Daniel's face twisted in embarrassment as he deciphered Mingo's chant.

Mingo's laugh rang out through the bright autumn morning. Soon Daniel was laughing too. He strode to Mingo's side and slapped him on the back.

"I deserved it, my friend. And I'll never forget it either. You'd better watch out next year!"

" Next Samhain I will make it a point to be safely back at Chota. Then you can deal with the forest spirits to your heart's content. Just don't forget to chant!"

Daniel slapped Mingo's back one last time, then lifted his head into the November wind and began. "Oh what a goose you be..."


End file.
